The Art of an Aneurysm
by LadyAlchemy
Summary: A mash of drabbles with Bonnie and Damon. Meanderings that I jot down mostly. Rated T may switch to M for possible future posts but I will fix the rating if it does.
1. Chapter 1

*** I own nothing but the words strung together. The characters are not mine.***

**There will be at least 5 of these all together but I am not sure yet if they will all be from Damon's pov. Just a few dabbles with what ever word(s) comes to mind. If you have a word you would like pm me and I'll do my best.**

***LITTLE***

So maybe he misses the little witch. Or the way she used to be. And maybe he misses that nasty little gouge of pain she shot directly into his brain to inspire his better nature or let him know he went a little out of line.

Maybe (if he was honest with himself) he missed the bantering they would share. Life is boring when everyone you know rolls over and takes it. Where is the fire and spark of well placed wit? Where is the euphoria from a victory hard earned? It can be nice when everything is given to you hand over fist but where was the exciting thrust and parry of intellect? He can admit that sometimes she could prick him a little with her words. Her verbal stabbing caused his thoughts to bleed, to give in to the press of a conscience, caused him to question himself… Who could do such a thing to THE Damon Salvatore? So maybe he did care about exWitchy

a little.

***To Sup***

The taste. That gushing smooth coppery ambrosia had flood his mouth once upon a time and it taunts him in the latest moments of the night. It teases him at random inopportune moments like when he should be thinking of her, THE HER, Elena. If thoughts are left unguarded he stares at Bonnie, stares at her with such intensity that should anyone one catch him – a wolf looking at 'Little Red' would be peering out behind blue eyes.

Perhaps its necessity for more than just a taste, some miniscule sip, something more than to angrily lash out enraged with a need to drain not to savor. One more taste will cure him, he's sure.

He hasn't forgotten that tiny nip from a vial that he had to share with others. He HATES sharing. It's not the same, it doesn't count…but it was good none the less. No, it was wondrous. He had to stop himself from upending the bottle - to rush her essence down his throat like a greedy starved child.

No no, his next intake of Bonnie will be directly from the source. He'll tap her like an aged barrel and relish her like a rich whisky. Then he can finally push the taste out of his mind and away from his dark desires.


	2. Chapter 2

***Musings of an Elder Salvatore***

Its times like this when the house is silent save for the popping and sputtering of the burning logs that I allow myself to ponder the fascinating lil' bits of information that land into my ears. …Whether I want to hear them or not.

So, she went and lost her virginity to Baby Gilbert. I suppose it's a good thing,

or a bad thing.

He was probably gentle with her and they were so 'innocent' that they were under the assumption that it was _better_ with the one you love. Heh. Oooh but I could tell her practice makes perfect and offer to show her. I kinda get a kick out of seeing the flush of anger glide up her face; it brings her blood close to the skin and that is hot. And I can feel the signature sinful smirk curve my face on that thought. For a moment I allow the light from the crackling fireplace to dancing through the amber liquid in the elegant cut tumbler and envision the light bouncing in a room of two naked bodies…mine and hers locked up tight so I can teach her all the things she missed out on…

Piff Little Gilbert most likely fumbled the whole thing, he has no finesse. There were probably apologies and uncomfortable giggles and a complete lack of manliness on Jeremy's part. And secretly despite the 'loveyness' she's going to be missing something – the spirit of our verbal sparring. That burn, that fervor, the fury. The suaveness. Me.

And when she figures it out and gazes at me with what she thinks is surreptitious needy doe eyes I may just cave in and show her all that she was missing. Hell who am I kidding; I may be the one to beg…nah…

***Maybe***

Bonnie Bennett would rather die that admit she has a thing for Damon Salvatore. And well she has, died that is. More than once maybe? So it wasn't so bad that she could confess to herself that Damon was really nice to look at. Any woman with eyes can see he has major appeal. Maybe in a perfect world where she wasn't just 'background chick' and he wasn't just death with teeth would they end up together. Maybe if Elena hadn't looked like a lost love and Bonnie could be more forward with getting something (or someone) for herself instead of always giving to any and every one, would they see more into each other than just defender and destroyer.

Was it a crime to slightly enjoy when he did the sexy crazy eyes thing or find thrill in his cerulean orbs lingering a little too long on her petite form? He wore black well, was highly intelligent even if a ton impetuous and still plunged into his chivalric history by opening her door even while doing it with that sneer that he flashed her on frequent occasion. What a gut twisting dichotomy. Was it so awful that she enjoyed the flicker of fire light traipsing over his pale skin and dappling through his inky hair, turning the tufts of midnight into wisps of ebony with tips of whisky tinge?

She sometimes wonders what his skin feels like. Are his lean lines as hard as they look? Will his texture still be smooth and supple despite the supernatural power running his body? Will his lips be warm and soft or hard and cool or fall some spot deliciously in the middle?

Perhaps next time when she dreams of him again, because there is always another dream of him, she will give into the dream with zest. She can let herself feel and do and say all the things she won't in real life because it's not a sin to dream it right?

To sleep perchance to dream…


	3. Chapter 3

***Too Many Questions***

How would it feel to be his obsession? Could she survive the air at the height of his pedestal? Would she enjoy the constantly being measured against every other woman, every other person, with the unwavering knowledge that she would always emerge victorious regardless who she was compared to? Could she handle always being someone's main focus and accept that he would make it so that others could be laid waste to and broken for her personal whim? Get use to her every thought, want and desire being attended to with only a slight suggestion, a needy sigh, huge begging emerald eyes.

Would she be happy with only Damon or feel the constant need to have another waiting in the wings, a backup of trusty stability? That answer was easy, a resounding hell NO. She was not the kind of girl to leave someone antsy and strung along. She was not a monkey; grasping hands never letting go of a vine before having the next one in palm. But could she let herself be putty in Damon's hands? It would not be to let him mold or shape but to allow his caresses and comfort, to allow coercion and seductive persuasion. To be swaddled up in some masculine gifted pampering... Indulge in the long elegant fingers that cupped for sheer pleasure – not to sculpt and mash.

Could she let herself be his everything?

Bonnie didn't know but she wished she had the option to try.

***Nearly illusive answer***

How does Stephan do this shit?

'Dear diary it's been nine days and half a century since I wrote in you.' Eh no it sounds like a confession. I don't have the conscience for that.

"What's up diary, it's been awhile.' Nope. This ain't working. Sounds too much like some awful eighty's song.

-Another scribbled up page into the fire.

'So, you, your annoying bro won't get off your back about finding some other outlet for some pent up aggression because it could help bla bla bla.

Anyway Elena broke your heart again. Are you asking yourself which time this is? It's a trend in your life right. Find a girl, fall in love – she's a vampire half in love with you but more in love with your brother.

Is it time for self-reflection: Do I set myself up to fall in love with women whose hearts can never completely mine? Do I have a type? Do I rush to the nearest doppelganger in hopes that this time I'll be good enough, better than Saint Stefan. Can I ever be truly worthy?

I'm tired of the repeat future I see for myself. I need to move away from the girls that throw their panties at me. But hell it's fun. Regardless, God forbid I'm actually growing as a person. So that also means I need to find a woman who challenges me. She has to be almost as attractive as me. I know that's asking a lot but hell let's go for broke. She has to have an unshakable faith in her beliefs or it will be too easy for me to change her mind and corrupt her. I can't have a sheep this time. Above all else she has to accept me for who I am. She can help me fix myself only and I mean ONLY if I want to do it. She has got to be ballsy, call me on my crap. And once she falls for me I will be her one and only male choice. I'm talking freeking real loyalty. No brother waffling, no "I'm conflicted," no "It's always going to be _ but wait its actually you. Or is it?"

No, now that I look over this I realize she doesn't exist. No wonder I'm suffering, wishing for the unattainable. Where is my doppelganger, my bosom companion, the Bonnie to my Cly..

I'll be Damned. Mfing appiphany. Bonnie.

I will never tell Stefan this writing self-discovery crap works. I'd rather die again.


	4. Chapter 4

_**The first** _

The first press of lips to lips was not earth ending. In fact both Bonnie and Damon walked away from the incident fully stunned with a hint of confusion. The moment was surreal. The most mystifying possibility of it was the little ex-witch had initiated it. Damon had always figured that if a kiss was to come into existence between the two, it would be all on his own time and at his own issuance. However the tiny little spitfire with green orbs had completely caught him unaware.

Bonnie had also assume that if there were to be any melding of the mouths it would be all on Damon and she would follow the kissing performance with a resounding slap to his all too handsome face. But what started as an outpouring of frustration from him and an endless pool of compassion from her ended in her slender fingers nearly clawing his clothes off in a crazy need to get to his skin.

What the hell was wrong with her? You would have to be blind not to think that Damon Salvatore was not attractive but he was also arrogant and cynical, jaded and a bit crazy. He was also shameless and witty and gorgeous and sexy and what the hell? She had a sneaking suspicion that that kiss was going to keep her up at night.

_**OR The First? **_

The first collision of mouths with Bonnie was not what Damon expected it to be. Not that he had any expectations really. Well maybe the occasional wayward lust filled thought.

He had anticipated heat and flame. What he got was soul deep peace. It has been an in-depth exploration of mouths and spirits. Her blazing flame did the unthinkable by quenching his internal fire, not enraging it. The touch of her dainty hands lovingly cupping his face and nails gently scraping his scalp while she drove her fingers into his hair spiked chills up his spine. He had plundered her inner recesses with his tongue, teased and delved and taunted her to make sure that he could embed himself in her somehow, show her exactly what it was like to play with him …but it was his breath that had been stolen, made him feel that calm embrace of a drowned man after the struggle. He would happily die in her arms again and again.

The press of her slight frame flush to his larger harder one filled him with self-assurance and masculine prowess. Strange that just her tiny stature could turn him on and be a balm to his inner demons and withered soul. It reminded him of what he used to be, before Katherine before the rift with his brother before the loss of his mother, when he was still pure. When he was idealistic.

Bonnie was everything he would have dreamed about.


	5. Chapter 5

The summer Bonnie turned twenty-three found her in Paris, in a dive bar kicking up her hills and feeling free. By most accounts anyone would see a girl whose life was uncomplicated, unblemished. She wore the façade well – had many of her formative years to shape and mold the mask so it presented the pretty picture that it displayed. She didn't let the fact that she was technically dead make her feel dead inside. She felt alive and would fully enjoy her last night in the city of love even if she had none of that herself.

The slight dread of returning home to Mystic Falls only held a slight damper when back dropped against the boisterous room filled with smiling, glass clinking Parisians. The sounds of live music tented more poignant and joy full because of the bitter that followed her in the rapid embrace of the morning. She allowed the enthusiasm to sweep her up for a time that was over all too soon. So Bonnie decided to punctuate the night. If a pause had to be made in her world tour might as well do it in style, with a shopping spree!

Germany and Scotland had offered wonderful clothes but fashion forward was always at home in France. A quick four am. stop at an all-night boutique garnered the purchase of a stunning green dress. She had always wanted a green dress, had never had one and life was about getting what you wanted. Standing on the sales floor in front of a long mirror with the shopkeeper insisting she MUST buy that dress, for a moment the tightness in her chest eased.

Whoever says you can never go home lies. There wasn't much left for her in the childhood place where she was raised but here she was none the less. Bonnie liked to keep her promises and that was the only reason she came back. Two years was not long enough to be away in her opinion. But Care would only hunt her down and drag her back if she didn't show up for her five year high school reunion.

In leaving behind the town, Bonnie had also cut ties with almost everyone. Care and Mat were the two exceptions so her second stop after visiting the cemetery of her dad and grams was to hit the town watering hole – the Mystic Grill. Caroline was supposed to meet up with her at three and although it was a little early, being back home already afforded her with a reason to drink. Mat had changed up the place a little since buying it and it seemed to be turning a nice profit since the room seems fairly packed.

Not feeling like running into anyone who might know her she found a seat at the bar and turned her back to the rest of the room. After asking the new bartender Candy if Mat was in and finding out that he wasn't but would be back shortly she ordered a crown and coke on the rocks and soon knocked it back with finesse.

"Well this is overwhelming. Not sure I can process Bonnie Bennett drinking like a pro. You must have learned from the frogs. Not my first vote for who to teach you. The Irish have them beat but I suppose the French do ok."

"Hello Damon." She issued without turning around on her stool. "One more Candy if you please and make it double. I'm going to need fortification for my new company."

The new company leapt up on the stool beside her. "Always soooo flattering being in your company Bon Bon although you must have lost your touch if you need to drink in order to mesh words with me. The little Bennett I knew would have no problems gleefully spewing poison in my direction."

Bonnie issued a dainty snort. "She still doesn't, that is if I thought poison would do anything to your arrogant conceit filled body." She finally turned and offered him a cold smile before turning and kicking back the recently gifted double Candy had just plunked in front of her.

Damon arched a black winged brow and pursed his lips. "Well someone's panties are in a twist," he derided.

"Don't worry Damon, you never had that power over my panties. Why are you here badgering me instead of at home snapping to Elena's every need?"

A flood of confusion crossed his handsome face for a moment until it cleared leaving his smirking normal features behind.

"Seems like little ex-witch is out of the loop. Elena and I haven't been together for a while now. Forgot you two weren't besties anymore but I guess that's what happens when you grow up. Fortunately for me I never have to do that. These days I spend time roaming all over doing what I want. I myself just got back. Hit Germany, Great Beer, and Scotland – the whisky does wonders and well French wine is some of the very best." He hopped off his seat and gave a flirty smile to the frozen petite brunet. She could feel the gentle brush of air against her ear lobe when he leaned in and breathily whispered from behind her.

"We both know I have more than just 'twisting' power with where your panties are concerned. You still have those vivid dreams that make you talk in your sleep Bonnie? Anyways, tonight you should wear that little green number that matches your eyes. I have a particular fantasy about that dress." He ran long pale fingers lovingly through the dark wavy tresses of Bonnies for mere moments while Bonnie fought for the every breath that made her chest rise and fall raggedly before the tender raking stopped.

For several seconds Bonnie simply couldn't get the fuzziness to leave her head.

"What the hell was that about? I just saw Damon bent in close whispering to you." The blond bombshell of Bonnie's best friend demanded and she climbed in the seat previously occupied by Damon. For just a brief few seconds Bonnie let her eyes search for the ebony haired guy with the piercing blue eyes. He was by the door and looking back with an intensity that she had never seen in him, not even for Elena. He waved a 'to'da'loo, the traditional smirk in place and a sensual slow wink was tossed at her before he disappeared behind the door.

How long had Damon been focused on a new obsession?


End file.
